


Autobahn (22:47)

by hotwheels_kin



Category: Hot Wheels (Movies), Hot Wheels: Acceleracers
Genre: Kurt is a music snob ok trust me, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, So this is old, Vert swears because he can, and very self indulgent, but here we are, if you're actually here reading this bless your heart omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotwheels_kin/pseuds/hotwheels_kin
Summary: Vert was just initiated into the Teku and Kurt just got initiated into the big gay crush club...
Relationships: Kurt Wylde/Vert Wheeler
Comments: 16
Kudos: 19





	Autobahn (22:47)

“So now that you’re officially a Teku, you’ve gotta get into our music.” Kurt smirked, reaching out and ruffling Vert’s hair. Vert playfully swatted him away and patted his hair back down, maintaining his perfected messy look.

The two had just left the Teku club after Vert and Karma’s initiation party. It was almost four in the morning, and the Southern California coastline was at its meager coldest. Vert pulled on his jacket, flipping up the collar, exposing himself as a true Californian. Kurt braved it in his tank top as only a New Yorker could. They sat on the guard rail of the coastal roadway outside the club.

“Wow, nobody told me I was being initiated into a cult,” Vert teased. “No offense, but I doubt you could ever convert me from indie rock to dubstep or whatever it is you guys listen to.”

“It is _not_ dubstep.” Kurt looked deeply offended and crossed his arms. “It’s techno. And you’re going to be hearing a lot of it, so if it really offends you, you should’ve joined the Metal Maniacs. They have no appreciation for the art form or it’s deep history.” Kurt began waving his arms accusingly gesturing in the general direction of their rival gang’s headquarters. “Just because it’s not real instruments doesn’t mean—”

“Kurt, Kurt, I’m kidding.” Vert put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder, and they made eye contact. Vert thought to himself, _this is probably the first time I’ve seen him without those silly orange sunglasses he wears._ The street lamps were dim and yellow tinted, but for a moment, he could really see into those deep brown eyes. 

Their eye contact lasted a millisecond longer than it maybe should have, so Vert laughed and gave Kurt a little shove, knocking him off balance from his perch on the rail. His arms and legs flailed for a beat as he steadied himself. Vert found himself staring at the curve of Kurt’s bicep as it tensed and relaxed, and he couldn’t help but bite his lip. Kurt squinted up at him, half pissed, half amused.

“So are you gonna educate me on techno music or what?” Vert continued. “Is there a lecture I should attend or something?” 

Kurt just rolled his eyes. “Come on, surf rat. Let’s go for a drive.”

Slingshot was parked in the VIP spot at the club and practically glowed from its recent buff. The doors slid upward like a cat’s fur standing on end, and Kurt plopped into the driver’s seat. Vert hesitated for a moment, amazed by how at ease Kurt was, a living legend sitting in his Grand Prix winning car. He lowered himself to the leather seats gently, watching Kurt flip switches and adjust the sound mixer. 

“We start at the beginning.” Kurt tossed his phone to Vert and effortlessly floored it out of the parking lot. 

Vert studied the playlist on Kurt’s phone. It was over a hundred songs, ordered chronologically, starting in 1974. “Kurt, this first song is twenty minutes long!”

“‘Autobahn’ by Kraftwerk. It’s not a song, it’s a twenty-two minute and forty-seven second experience. Kraftwerk is one of the founding fathers of modern electronic music.” Kurt’s eyes never left the road as he recited. 

“So this is a lecture.” Vert reached over and poked Kurt in the ribs. 

If Kurt had been anyone other than a Grand Prix winner with nerves of steel, he would’ve swerved off the road. It wasn’t that the poke itself was all that distracting. It was the thought of Vert playfully and somewhat affectionately touching him that made Kurt nearly black out. 

“Just… Just shut up and listen to it.” It appeared that Kurt had left all his composure back at the club. But the song helped calm his nerves, his fingers tapping along subconsciously, the soft, repetitive melody like a voice whispering _it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay._

Sneaking a glance at Vert, Kurt almost swerved off the road again. Vert was leaning back in the seat with his arms behind his head, his eyes half closed, staring off into the night, drinking in the music. Kurt felt like he was being initiated into the Teku all over again, finding people that shared his passion, a passion he’d kept on the down low for ages, because it wasn’t cool enough, wasn’t masculine enough for his racing buddies back in New York. He felt like he was back at home, sitting on the floor of his room as a teenager, destroying his ear drums to Fischerspooner and Bronski Beat and Depeche Mode, but only ever on his headphones. But here, listening to an outrageously long Kraftwerk song with probably the cutest boy he’d ever seen in his passenger seat, Kurt felt a lot less alone. 

Neither of the boys spoke for the duration of “Autobahn”, just letting the song and the winding coastal road take them on a journey to Düsseldorf in 1974. Vert thought it was about to end more than once, but he could tell from Kurt’s body language that there was more to come. When it finally did end Kurt sighed just a little. Vert could see just how much that song meant to him. 

“So?” Kurt’s eyes raked over Vert, trying to gauge his mood.

“Definitely an art form,” Vert laughed. “But seriously, so cool. I didn’t even know they had the technology to do that in 1974.”

It was Kurt’s turn to laugh at that. “Sometimes I forget you’re only two years younger than me, but you never even had a cassette player as a kid.” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault my strict military and science officer father didn’t want me to grow up with dinosaur age technology,” Vert replied smugly.

“And who still uses an iPhone 4?” Kurt was quick with a comeback.

“You know that’s ‘cause I lost my current one in the ocean. It wasn’t my fault, Alec was screwing around while we were surfing and—”

“Still don’t understand why you had your phone while surfing anyway,” Kurt cut him off. Vert opened his mouth to defend himself, thought better of it, and bit his lip.

“Well, I think it’s about time me and my dinosaur age phone take over the AUX cord.” Vert unplugged Kurt’s phone and the speakers spat.

“Fine, but we aren’t finished with your Teku education,” Kurt relented. 

“Alright, well I interrupt this program to bring you a dose of Josef Jack Wheeler education.” Vert scrolled through his phone, pouring over his playlists, looking for the perfect song.

“Is that your father?” Kurt raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, shit. I’ve never told you my real name?” Kurt looked down at his hands sheepishly. “Well, uh, I’m Josef.”

Kurt eased off the gas for a moment, giving his full attention to the boy in his passenger seat. “Josef,” He whispered, trying it out on his tongue. Vert sank low in his seat and looked up at Kurt through his stringy, sun bleached hair. “I kinda like that.” 

“I kinda hate it,” Vert laughed.

“It’s cute.” The words left Kurt’s mouth before he remembered even thinking them. Relief mixed with dread rose in his chest as Vert took a moment to process, a blush creeping across both boys’ cheeks. 

Breaking eye contact, they realized that Kurt had stopped driving. Slingshot had just been idling in the middle of the road for who knows how long, the only car on the road at almost five in the morning.

“We’re uh, we’re not going anywhere,” Kurt mumbled.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Vert laughed and shifted in his seat, putting his elbow on the console and just gently brushing with Kurt’s arm.

_In the dictionary, there’s a picture of distracted driving,_ Kurt thought. _And the picture is me trying to drive while Josef “Vert” Jack Wheeler casually brushes his arm against mine._

Scrambling to recover, Kurt pulled off the roadway and into the parking lot of a beach. Before he knew it, Vert was out of the car, opening the driver’s side door, and dragging Kurt out onto the beach. When they reached the sand, Vert plopped down and ripped his shoes off. He started queueing up some Kasabian, just playing it from his phone. Vert then stood and closed his eyes, wiggling his toes in the sand and mouthing the words. 

“Now these guys, they were my childhood,” Vert smiled, his eyes still closed.

“It’s not bad,” Kurt admitted, but he was falling in love with the sound of it, with the way Vert was swaying to the drum beat ever so slightly, with the stupidly happy grin on Vert’s face...

“There’s been so much time, wasted...” Vert sang, barely above a whisper, but it was a beautiful sound to Kurt. “Wish I brought my board,” Vert broke from the lyrics, and Kurt sighed at him. 

“Surf rat.”

“Shut up.” Vert tackled him, and sand was everywhere, in Kurt’s hair and his mouth and his pants, but he couldn’t give less of a damn. His boots were yanked off his feet by Vert and suddenly they were running into the ocean, blasted by the freezing water. 

Kurt was out of breath and couldn’t stop laughing at Vert swearing and leaping back from the frigid waves, his weak California nerves no match for the early February ocean, at least not without a wetsuit. Kurt kicked the receding wave, sending a spray in Vert’s direction. Vert ducked, but couldn’t remain unscathed. 

“You’re so dead.” Vert called over the roar of the next wave, and chased Kurt down the beach. Maybe Kurt was just out of breath, or maybe he let Vert catch up to him and splash him until he was soaked from head to toe. 

The sun poking out over the mountains interrupted Vert’s definitive victory in this splash war, bathing the beach in orange.

“Oh wow, my dad’s gonna kill me.” Vert panted and put a hand on his forehead.

“You joining a racing gang doesn’t bother him, but coming home after dawn does?” Kurt chuckled. 

Vert just rolled his eyes and started heading back up the beach. Suddenly, Kurt’s heart sank, realizing that this night was really about to end. He still didn’t even know what this whole thing meant. Well, he knew what it meant to him, but…

Kurt jogged to catch up, hastily throwing his sandy boots back on and meeting Vert at the car. “Vert, wait…” Kurt whispered. 

Whatever he thought he was going to say fell out of his brain the second Vert turned around, flashing those blue eyes and a wide smile. Vert reached up and ran a hand through Kurt’s hair, normally spiked and gelled to perfection, now a soggy mess. Kurt put one hand on the hood of the car and another on his hip, trying to stabilize himself and formulate any sort of word.

“Vert, I…” He trailed off and looked down at his feet. When Kurt looked up again Vert was already answering his unspoken questions. 

Still barefoot, Vert took one quick step to close the space between them, tenderly placing a hand on Kurt’s chest, stopping his heart. Vert’s other hand fell to Kurt’s waist, threading his thumb through a belt loop. 

Vert’s lips tasted like the ocean and the wind and the orange sun, like everything Kurt had expected from his surf rat. Kurt reached up and let his hand rest on Vert’s jawbone, tracing the line and brushing away the sand, brushing away the years he had thought Vert was cute but annoying, brushing away those lies he had told himself to try to break this little crush, because caring about the other World Race drivers almost got him and everyone he loved killed by Gelorum. The past was over, and the future is something Kurt finally allowed himself to look forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> This is 1974 words and Autobahn by Kraftwerk came out in 1974... Who am I


End file.
